


Never Friends

by space_dragon



Category: TwoSet, Twosetviolin, twoset violin
Genre: AU - Brett and Eddy never meet, Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-17 14:08:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29842680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/space_dragon/pseuds/space_dragon
Summary: AU where Brett and Eddy never meet. Somehow, they can’t shake the feeling that something’s missing.
Relationships: Eddy Chen & Brett Yang
Kudos: 3





	Never Friends

There were two youth orchestras in Brisbane. Eddy sat at the desk in his room with two pamphlets before him. Both orchestras were equally accomplished; both were the same distance from Eddy’s house; both had accepted Eddy based on his audition. And at age 13, he would be among the youngest members no matter which orchestra he chose.

One of the pamphlets had almost gotten thrown out in a pile of junk mail, but Eddy happened to spot the corner peeking out of the stack of paper and rescued it at the last moment. Eddy wasn’t usually superstitious, but something made him feel like there was a reason why he caught the pamphlet before it got thrown out.

He picked up the rescued pamphlet and brought it to his mum. “This one,” he said, handing it to her.

“Here, let me see,” she replied in Chinese. “Ah, this one meets on Fridays,” she said, reading the back of the pamphlet. “We’ll have to call the math place to switch you into the other class.”

“Sure, ma.”

***

Taking his seat in the audience of the Sydney Opera House was 31-year-old Dr. Ed Chen. That was the name that was written on the door of his office, anyway; his friends still knew him as Eddy.

Eddy turned to look at his wife sitting next to him, and she smiled up at him. They had met his second year of med school — her third year — and got married not long after graduating.

The Drs. Chen had recently relocated to Sydney: she to accept a higher-paying position in the hospital network where she was employed, and he to start work at a new ophthalmology practice.

They had worked hard to finally get there. Medical school and residency were the obvious hurdles for both of them, but on top of that, she'd had to deal with snide comments about being “too pretty to be taken seriously as a doctor” throughout med school. Fortunately, since then, she had found a network of colleagues, friends, and mentors who supported her. Eddy smiled as he thought about how proud he was of her, about how far they’d come together.

It had been years since Eddy had touched his violin. He had tried to continue taking lessons during university, but life and school got in the way. He still loved music, though. He made it a point to see a live orchestra concert at least once a year, despite his busy schedule. This was his first concert since moving to Sydney. In fact, it was his first time coming back to the opera house since — when was it? Maybe since that one performance with his youth orchestra back during high school.

How lovely to be back here, in this lovely venue, with his lovely wife.

Ever since moving to Sydney, though — or maybe even before — something felt… off. There was a perpetual feeling of unease in the back of his mind, as if he were forgetting something, but he couldn’t remember what.

Wasn’t his mum saying something about this, last time he called her? _“You’ll feel like something is missing until you’ve had a kid! Or two!”_ He had replied with a noncommittal _hmm_ at the time. Eddy and his wife had been so busy until now that the idea of having a child had hardly come up, except to dismiss as being “not the right time.” Maybe now was the right time? Maybe that was what he was missing? He made a mental note to bring it up later at home.

His wife at this point was busy studying the program notes — _As diligent as ever_ , Eddy thought affectionately — so Eddy flipped absently through the program on his lap, glancing over the list of musicians’ names. His eyes stopped on the name _Brett Yang_ , with a star next to the name to indicate Concertmaster.

 _Is this that same guy?_ Eddy wondered. _The concertmaster of the other youth orchestra?_ They had been around the same age and were both concertmasters of “rival” youth orchestras, so people would often compare them with each other. Eddy remembered seeing him from afar during breaks at orchestra festivals; he had always been surrounded by people, telling stories and cracking jokes.

 _So he’s concertmaster of SSO now, huh,_ Eddy mused. _Looks like he's doing pretty well for himself._

The house lights dimmed. Eddy closed the booklet and reached over to hold his wife’s hand. He tried to remember what he was forgetting.

***

Brett held his violin perched on his left knee as he sat at the head of the first violin section, waiting for the orchestra to settle into their seats.

It had taken him countless hours of practice and multiple grueling auditions, but at age 32, he was finally sitting as concertmaster on this iconic stage.

The lights on the stage were so bright that it was difficult to see into the audience from where he sat. Not that Brett was looking; he had been on this stage so many times that there was never anything new to see.

A hush fell over the concert hall. Brett stood and looked toward the back of the stage at the oboist. The oboe droned a concert _A_ , and the brass and winds began tuning. Brett had performed this ritual so many times that it was automatic. He allowed his mind to wander.

Brett was satisfied, mostly, with the way things were going for him. After all, here he was in the concertmaster seat, in one of the most famous venues in Australia. He practiced every day, so that he could attend rehearsals, so that he could perform the same program _n_ times, weekdays and weekends, evenings and matinees. Then the cycle repeated, with a different set of pieces. Then it repeated again. And again. But it was fine. He had work, and practice, and the constantly revolving door of women who visited his apartment in the evenings.

The brass and winds finished tuning, and the oboe played another _A_. Brett tuned his A string and sat down to join the sound of strings tuning — that familiar dissonance gradually giving way to order.

Since becoming concertmaster — no, maybe even before — he had felt like there was something he was missing. He had everything that he had wanted when he set out to become a musician — well, minus becoming a soloist, but he had learned to accept that not all dreams come true.

Still, sometimes, in quiet moments, his chest would tighten and his breath would catch in his throat, only for a moment, as if there were a hole in his chest that he didn’t know how to fill. There was a coldness, an emptiness in his apartment that he could never get rid of, no matter how warm it was outside, no matter how many people he brought home….

 _Wonder if there’s a draft from one of the windows or something,_ he thought.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of applause as the conductor walked across the stage. Brett stood, and the rest of the orchestra followed. The conductor bowed to the audience, then stepped onto the podium to face the orchestra. She exchanged nods with Brett. The orchestra sat, and the hall grew silent. The conductor raised her baton.

Brett ignored the cold and lifted his violin.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote my first draft of this before discovering Snailsway’s beautiful “Cityscape.” I'm sorry for parts of my story being similar to Cityscape (like Eddy being a doctor and Brett in an orchestra); I really wanted to explore this idea of the two of them never having met, like how they wouldn’t be able to know that they were missing the other in their lives. The idea made me sad, so I had to write it out. Also I wanted to write about 32-year-old Brett.
> 
> Sorry for any inaccuracies — I tried to do some research, but ultimately I just wanted to write.


End file.
